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‘The king wishes you to return to Niroli immediately,’ she heard the voice of the king’s most senior minister informing her tersely.
‘Immediately? But why?’
‘I cannot tell you any more.’
‘But my flight back is booked for the day after tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can—’
‘A private flight has been arranged for you. All you need to do is present yourself at the special check-in desk at the airport.’
‘But why? What is going on?’ Natalia started to demand but it was too late; the King’s Chief Minister had already ended the call.
‘Have you finished with the table?’
‘What? Oh, yes,’ she confirmed, getting up to let the two young women take over the table.
Outside it was still drizzling. Niroli had a warm and sunny climate all year round, rather like that of the Canaries, albeit with seasonal fluctuations, and the drizzle and its accompanying grey skies made her shiver.
What was behind the urgent summons of her to return ahead of schedule?
Had the new heir changed his mind about their marriage and, if so, how did she feel about that? Natalia wondered just over a couple of hours later when she had been escorted on board her private flight to Niroli.
‘What would you like to drink?’ the smiling steward was asking her. ‘We have champagne?’
Natalia could feel the movement of the sleek modern jet as it started to roll down the runway. A feeling of panic gripped her but she swiftly controlled it. This was it, she was on her way—not just home, but to her future and her future husband. ‘No…no champagne, thank you,’ she told the steward hollowly. ‘Just water, please.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘BUT this is ridiculous,’ Natalia objected to the driver of the imposing chauffeur-driven car that had been waiting for her right on the runway the moment her plane touched down. ‘I don’t want to go to the palace; I want you to take me home.’
‘I’m sorry, but my orders are to take you to the palace,’ the driver told her woodenly.
Natalia stared out of the blac
ked-out windows in frustrated silence. This was crazy. What on earth was going on? Why on earth hadn’t an official from the palace been waiting in the car for her to explain everything?
The sky had turned clear blue-green, and was now shading into midnight-blue velvet as darkness fell and the car sped along the modern ceremonial highway linking the palace and the main town to the airport.
Up ahead of them Natalia could see the lights of the town itself, crowned by the familiar sight of the royal palace.
The driver took an unexpected detour, skirting the town, and taking her off guard as he drove down a very narrow road that led to the back of the castle.
So, Natalia decided wryly, whilst her presence was commanded and so important apparently that she had been flown home in a private jet, her person was still unimportant enough to have to enter the palace via what looked very like much a tradesman’s entrance to judge from its gateway—so narrow that she sucked in her breath fearing that the car was too wide to fit through it. Beyond the gateway lay a dank, unlit courtyard, the windows overlooking it were shuttered and the whole atmosphere was inhospitable and unwelcoming.
The chauffer had brought the car to a halt and was getting out to open the door for her. Despite her irritation, Natalia still managed to find a warm smile for him. He was after all merely following instructions.
This cloak-and-dagger type of thing was in many ways typical of the way King Giorgio ran his court, she thought ruefully. It wasn’t unknown for those who knew him best to exclaim in irritated exasperation that Machiavelli ought to have been King Giorgio’s middle name. The old king loved playing people off against one another, and always had done, Natalia acknowledged, but she admitted that she had come to feel a certain amount of sympathy for him as one after the other the candidates for his heir had had to be rejected. He might be arrogant and proud, but he was also old, and she suspected he had begun to feel real fear about what would happen to Niroli if he died without appointing his own successor. For all his faults, and she wasn’t going to deny that they were many, no one could ever doubt his fierce love for his country. A love that she of course shared, as he well knew. He had surprised her once by telling her that she reminded him a little of his first wife, Queen Sophia, and that she had the same elegance and spirit. Natalia had been touched and flattered by his words, knowing how well thought of his first queen had been by the people of Niroli and those who knew her more closely. She suspected that it was in part because of this likeness to Queen Sophia that King Giorgio had initially conceived the idea of her marrying his newfound son.
A door was opening, a man coming towards her, although because of the lack of proper lighting she didn’t realise that it was the King’s Chief Minister until he reached her.
‘Why all the urgency and secrecy? What on earth is going on?’ she demanded.
‘Come this way. I’ll explain everything to you as I escort you to your apartment.’
Natalia, who had been on the point of walking into the palace, stopped and turned to look at him.
‘My what?’
‘Since you are about to be proclaimed as the official fiancée of King Giorgio’s successor, it is only fitting that you should have your own apartments within the palace.’
